


October Story (Original work.)

by LittleBluejay_SingingSongs



Series: The Things We Did. [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Eating, F/M, Happy Halloween, He’s gay! And I think I love him!, Kayaking, Kissing, M/M, Nudity, Photography, Theft, implied drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs/pseuds/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs
Summary: Henry and George met at a coffeehouse corkboard. George needed a roommate and Henry needed a room.George is both a photographer and gay. He moved away from his family. He moved again, to start afresh and left his friends behind. So, far he’s enjoyed his new life.Henry studies to pass the bar and is quite straight. He dislikes spending any time with his never ending fighting parents. When his girlfriend moved to New York, he moved to Washington DC.Henry and George make great photos together.Done. Thank you Ao3
Relationships: Henry/Rose
Series: The Things We Did. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993306
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Henry and George have a visitor.

Knock, knock.

Both men froze. Almost three months they’d been living on Lake Barcroft. While not in Washington, DC, it was close enough for Henry. And far enough away for George. George loved being nine turns away from the main highway at the end of a circle drive, in the middle of the woods, on the lake. This was the first time anyone had knocked on their door. George considered, “Maybe someone’s lost.”

Henry looked up from his book. The room was painted and furnished in the same white as the sofas. George came to the kitchen door, saw Henry wearing a book in his lap and took his photo. “Look down.” Henry looked down. He took a second photo without Henry’s face showing. “Thanks.”

Earlier at breakfast, George found the view erotic of Henry’s beautiful bum lit by the early morning sun, framed by the black lines of the bistro chair. A hard bright line outlined one side of his body making Henry’s dark brown hair look white, while shadows outlined the curve of his side, the small cleft of his spine and each cheek. Henry had insisted, no photo’s of his face, he wanted a government job, and also, no sex. Which George found excruciatingly painful.

George had made Henry a salmon omelette. Henry, nude, had eaten methodically. While seemingly unaware of George taking his picture. He knew. George showed him dozens of pictures of himself with blurry hands and arms, so he did everything slowly. Whatever George wanted, Henry did. Sometimes he ate while reading the paper, other times he laid on the floor, once he stood and ate over the sink. He laughed to himself, this was not the direction he thought his life was going to take.

He was studying as he did every morning since he got his degree. He sat on the white leather chair, cross legged and had been reading a book in his lap when, knock, knock. George took a couple more pictures and went to the front door.

Henry’d have to pass in front of the door to reach his bedroom. “It’s a woman.” The front door had thin full length windows on both sides. George looked back at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll block the window.”

Henry laughed again. Today wasn’t exactly a normal day. He’d have an ID made this afternoon at work. Tomorrow was his first day on the new job. And now a woman was at the door.

George heard Henry’s laugh and smiled. He looked out the window at the blond on the porch. “Okay.” She turned back towards the door and he opened it.

Henry walked quickly to his room. He threw on black jeans, one of George’s ideas, without any underwear and a white T-shirt. Another George purchase. He came out and got a shock. Rose Marie May, his Romy, was in the living room talking to George. She saw George’s eyes flicker to Henry. She turned.

“Squeeeeeee.” Romy ran to him and hugged him. “I finally found you.” He hugged her back and swung her around. They both burst out laughing like loons.

“Romy.”

George took a few photos. Romy? She said her name was Miss. May. He’d wondered at the Miss. When he first met Henry, he’d said he wasn’t married and had no girlfriend. George worried for some time now, Henry starting a full time job might have put an end to their photography business. Now, with the arrival of a girl from Henry’s past, it seemed a sure bet their limited partnership was over and they’d have to sell the house.

George watched with a pang as Romy sat in Henry’s lap. These two knew each other well, and well, he wanted to be in Henry’s lap.

George put his camera away in his bedroom, careful to lock it, he set it in a drawer. He’d tried kissing Henry, once. They were celebrating their first big check, from the cabin shoot. Lounging on the sofa, drinking and watching a movie Henry did not squirm or act affronted when he kissed him. Henry’s return kiss was pathetic. Henry smiled, then wrestled him into a headlock. Twenty minutes he held him. With their heads up close. They slid onto the floor. George stopped struggling and Henry’s grasp became a caress. George liked being held in Henry’s lap. They ended up talking through the whole movie. Sadly, Henry was straight. George never tried to kiss him a second time. Once in a while if they touched or sat next to each other on the sofa, or even hugged, it always as if they were brothers or long time friends. George was always left wanting more.

George stowed everything photographic in a drawer. Larger equipment he hid in the closet. He did one last scan of the room and added the framed picture of Henry, on his bedside table, to a drawer.

He checked the bathroom. It looked okay. He checked the cabinet and removed a box of three month old Trojans, and added it to the drawer with Henry’s picture. He walked through the house checking everything. The third bedroom was now part workroom and darkroom. He hoped May’d leave before Henry gave her a tour of the place. The garage had the rest of his photography equipment, tripods and scrims, along with bins of props and clothing for Henry, and some furniture.

He returned to the living room hopeful to hear when Miss. May was leaving. Sigh. They’d been kissing. “I have some shopping. So, I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Miss. May.” He watched them carry on a conversation without words. Obviously they were long time pals. Henry then stood. As he did, he carried on his own wordless conversation with George. Essentially he said, I had no idea, she was coming. And, sorry. And, no, I don’t know when she’s leaving.

George left. He usually worked out a theme or a story and planned the meal to match. This morning’s had been, new job jitters, with white lighting and deep shadows. He thought this evening’s would be ‘relief’ or ‘elation’ with caviar and champagne? No, tomorrow night, after Henry’s first day. He decided May would be staying the night and she must be into healthy food. He bought vegetables, a Brie, a baguette and a loaf of rosemary bread. He added a steak just in case.

George drove slowly up to the house giving him time to check out May’s car. It was a rental. Of course May’d stay the night, maybe longer. Did she have any other reason to be here, besides visiting Henry?

Henry met him in the garage. “She’s asleep.” George unloaded the groceries. He had a lot of experience with a lot of artists. He didn’t question Henry. Henry looked great in the tailored black jeans. George could see Henry was commando. They were just loose enough for Henry to walk. Over the last two months Henry stopped noticing how tight they were. “I brought my suit into the living room.”

“Good. Thanks.” They got to work. The groceries were stowed. George took several dozen pictures of Henry dressing. Many were little closeups of the tying of the tie, buttoning buttons, and Henry’s tush. Henry wore a black suit and tie with a white shirt. He wore a Movado watch and no pocket square, or tie tack. George appraised his overall look. “Take a comb. Even if you don’t need it, use it before the picture is taken.”

“I don’t want to look, you know.”

“Trust me.” He saw Henry was worried. He spoke slowly and calmly. “Okay. You don’t want the picture taken, the thing laminated, and one day look at the image blown up on a screen, sometime and you see a small piece of paper or some fluff stuck in your hair. I don’t know if this place is like the DMV, or if they spend time taking a good photo.”

Henry nodded, “Thank you, George.”

“Here take my car.” George handed him the keys. Henry drove a Ford truck fitted with a camper that should have had it’s Michigan plates changed.

“Thanks.” Henry got his paperwork and a comb from his bedroom.

“Still asleep.”

They nodded to each other and Henry left. He came back, gave George a quick hug, “Thanks,” then left.

George finished up in the kitchen and began working on the mornings photos. He set up folders, titled the pictures, edited most of them for some small detail, and deleted any showing Henry’s face. He submitted five. One of Henry from the side, running his hands through his hair as he walked into the room. His arm covered his face and his front foot was forward. One rear shot of him sitting and another of his hands and chest as he ate. One full length picture of him dressed and looking out the window. And the last was a composite of the tie, cuffs, him pulling a sock on, and putting a toe into one shoe. He spent too much time debating on including the shoe shot.

He locked his devices and cleaned off the table. The shower started. George thought for a moment. Henry had to have told her he was a photographer, if she didn’t get that on her own.

He was going to entertain her.He’d show her his photographs. But, not on the iPad. It’d make them sit too close together. It was okay for him and Henry. They had a tv in the garage. It’d been sitting in there taking up space since they moved in. He began unboxing the tv, stopped, and slid the box into the living room. The box moved easily on the white carpeting. He set it up in front of the wall he used the least as a backdrop. Not having a stand or a table wide enough or strong enough he used a sofa pushed into the wall as a stand and set the tv on the back of it. He attached the wires, then took the box into the garage. He wasted more time, looking for wires to attach his old iPad 2 to the tv. He returned to find Miss. May, dressed, looking out the window. She was being a bitch and didn’t look at him. As if he was the help!

“Hello.”

She slowly turned towards him, her head followed last. As if the view was riveting. Well, it was actually a good view. Lake Barcroft was not your typical oval pond, it was long and skinny, with many arms in many directions. Their view had three arms, left, right and one to the left of center. The center arm faced due East. The previous owners had heavy curtains to block the sunrise. George took them down, keeping the thin, filmy, gauzy white ones. He’d like to replace them eventually with curtains that draped a foot or two onto the floor. The far bank was close enough for the trees to make a nice backdrop. While most of the houses were parts of roofs and boat docks.

She’d done her makeup. “Hello.”

“I’m about to make lunch.” She didn’t say anything. Was she jet lagged? He turned on the devices. Turned off the sound. He checked the photo file and stopped. The tv needed to run a set up program. He started it, looked at Miss. May, who was again looking out the window.

George made easy soup and green tea, because he didn’t want to cook for her. He boiled Swansons chicken broth and a diced potato. Outside on the deck, right in front of Miss. May, he picked four or five scallions from a wide pot, and brushed the dirt off. He finely diced the onion and added the white part and some of the green. He added leftover chicken, diced. He took a crust of bread, smeared olive oil and herbs on it and watched it under the broiler. He diced the bread. He served the bowls with a sprinkling of bread, Parmesan cheese, and the green onions. He went back for the napkins, spoons and two cups. His last trip was for the tea. He decided not to be pissed, she was a guest. But, she acted like family with Henry?

“It smells good.”

Not a thank you. George started eating before she sat. Now he was being bitchy. Sigh. He waited until she sat. “Excuse me.” He brought the balsamic vinegar to the table. He’d transferred the dark brown liquid to an aluminum bottle. The tiny pour spout had a small flip top. He held it towards her. “Would you like some balsamic vinegar?”

Miss. May looked briefly at the soup and tea. “No. I prefer my soup without vinegar.” There was no inflection in her voice.

Wow. Was she angry. George added a small dollop to his dish. He stirred it in and ate. It was okay. Not as good as homemade. But, it was good. Finally she ate. “Try a small amount on your spoon.”

“Of vinegar!” He nodded. “I know what vinegar tastes like. Thank you.”

Why was she so angry? He spoke slowly and quietly. “Trust begins slowly.” He ate. “This is not the stuff you find in supermarkets.” He waited without looking away. Hm. If she relays this conversation to Henry, does he sounds bitchy? He added, “Please.”

She blinked and looked away. She handed him the spoon. He let one drop onto the spoon and handed it back to her. She looked at the bead. She tried it. “This isn’t vinegar. I don’t know what this is. Vinegar isn’t sweet.”

He gave a small shrug and finished his lunch. Miss. May tried a few drops of the brown elixir. “It’s good. But, it’s not vinegar.” She finished her meal. “Thank you for the lunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you going to tell me what it really is?”

“If it’s not balsamic. What do you think it is?” George stacked the dishes and carried most of them into the kitchen. He began washing up.

She came to the doorway, watching him, “Some fruit, cooked a long time. And strained using cheesecloth. Maybe black plums. You know Henry’s not gay.”

And there it is. And he wasn’t even angry. He took out a new bottle of vinegar and handed it to her. When she didn’t take it, he set it on the counter. He set a clean spoon next to it and went on with the dishes. He left her reading the bottle. Outside he broomed the deck.


	2. Henry drives Vicky.

Henry wasn’t accustomed to driving a Crown Victoria. When he first saw George behind the wheel he broke out laughing. “What are you driving? This is yours?”

George had turned away and stared out the windshield. Then he started smiling. He was going to like working with Henry. “Get in.” They headed for George’s apartment. George noticed Henry didn’t fidget. He wasn’t tense or anxious. He was just a guy in a car. He’d summed up Henry correctly, he was going to be a great model. All he had to do now was get his clothes off him, and see of he was just as relaxed.

“It is a smooth ride.”

“She. She is so smooth.” He grinned. “Vicky has an engine that will haul whatever you can fit in the trunk.” He glanced at Henry. “She has a very large trunk.” Henry is straight. Sigh. “You haul your stuff in a pick-up and I use a car.”

Henry returned his smile. They were building a friendship. “Point taken.” He compressed his lips and his eyes twinkled. George was falling in love.

They parked in front of the building. “And she has breaks to match.”

Henry parked. He used his phone to take pictures of the ticket, which he left on the dash, the number of the parking spot, and Vicky’s license plate. Inside he had his picture taken, filled out various forms in various offices. He picked up the finished ID, now on a lanyard. He returned to Vicky and was immediately in the crush of traffic.

Everyone knows where they are and where they are going and exactly how to get there, but me. He wasn’t used to changing lanes and with the length of Vicky and at these speeds, hemissed his turn. He got lost. He got lost a second time. Then he was crossing some famous bridge a second time. He knew where he was, he was at the Mall! He drove around the Mall. It’s a lot bigger than he’d realized. He was getting worried. He was going to be hungry when he got home and he had to piss. He thought he was on the right track and the road took a gentle turn away from the direction he needed to go, then he crossed another bridge. He was now on a road that was more like a slalom run, following a river bank. These people have this road memorized! It was all he could do, to keep up.

The sun was setting when Henry reached his exit. He pulled off to the side of the road and relaxed. He didn’t want to walk in all frazzled.


	3. Brady English arrives.

George wasn’t ready to go back inside. He checked the side of the building and picked up some trash.He liked the woodsy quiet of the area. He listened to the wind in the trees and the birds, the water made almost no sound. It was colder than last week. He was going to have to get some work gloves. Around the front he cleared the porch of autumn leaves and twigs. He made his way sweeping down the short walkway to the driveway. George never before lived in a house.

George saw him, before he heard him. The guy looked taller than he was because of his thinness. He wore a seriously large backpack and boots. He strode along as if he’d walked a thousand miles. Were people backpacking common in this area? He didn’t think so. The guy was looking right at him. George stopped pushing leaves around and hung on the broomstick. For a second time George thought someone was lost.

His voice carried easily across the distance, “Hello.”

George gave a quick nod, “Hello.” The guy closed the gap between them. He wasn’t handsome, but he had a lot of confidence. His hair had the not cut in a while, nor combed since this morning look.

“You must be George.”

“I am. May I ask who you are?” And what do you want?

“I’m Brady English. Brad.” He sneezed and coughed. Most likely from the dust George had been flinging around.

“Bless, you.” George couldn’t remember the last time he’d said that phrase.

“Thanks.”

Brady looked at the property. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.”

Brad gave him a sideways smile, “You haven’t bought a rake yet.”

George grinned back, “Not yet.”

“Did it come with a snow shovel?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“I’m a friend of Henry’s. We go way back.”

They did not turn away from each other when the front door opened. “Brady!” George watched Brady not look away until Miss. May was almost in his arms. He set his pack on the ground and held her with an easy familiarity. She kissed him and he kissed her back.

“Hello, Rose Marie.”

Rose Marie?

“Did you walk all the way here?”

“I did.”

“I cannot believe it. You should have called me. How long did it take you?”

“Two months.” At her shocked expression he added, “I did stop along the way.”

“Oh, good. Come inside.” She pulled him along with her. He grabbed his pack and looked at George. Silently apologizing for not being invited in by George.

George decided to place the broom back in the garage before joining them.

“They have no furniture in the dining room. It’s completely empty. I don’t know why they don’t use it. Instead they eat in the living room. And they use patio furniture. Go figure. They only just got the TV and didn’t buy a stand.” Miss. May stopped talking when George entered the room.

George decided to be polite. “Miss. May.” He nodded to her. “Brady.”

“George.” Brady nodded to him.

“Are you thirsty or hungry?”

“A glass of water, please.”

George returned with a tray with a pitcher of ice water and four glasses.

Miss. May asked, “Are you expecting company?”

George poured a glass and offered it to Miss. May.

“No, thank you.”

He offered it to Brad. “Thank you.” As Brad took the glass his fingers touched George’s. George noticed. He dismissed it. There was nothing in Brad’s expression to imply anything. Then again Miss. May was watching.

“Henry starts a new job, tomorrow. Today he’s having his picture taken. Knowing how long it takes to drive there and back, Henry should be back any time, now.”

They talked. Without talking about anything of substance. Romy’s observations on the weather in the area. Why did Henry choose this particular house? Miss. May’s auto trip from Michigan. Brady’s trip down from New York.

Finally, Henry arrived. George excused himself and went to the garage. Henry smiled sheepishly at George. “Traffic was a little overwhelming. I missed my turn.” He joked, “I think I’ve been on every street in D.C.”

Miss. May said quite loudly, “How horrible for you, Henry. Come inside and tell us all about it. I have a surprise for you. Brady is here.” George didn’t jump in surprise. Romy never took her eyes off Henry. Not giving him a moment to exchange a look with George. So, Henry touched George’s arm as he passed him.

Inside, Henry changed his clothing, then joined Brady and George in the living room.

George was a bit irritated. Not only was Miss. May making something in the kitchen, but he had a good idea that she was unaware he was co-owner of the house.

“Brad. Nice to see you.”

“Hey, Hen.”

“Why are you here? You’ve met George.”

“Yes.” Brady looked at George again. “We met.” They both wore the subtlest of smiles.

George added, “Out on the driveway.”

“I walked from Jean’s place.”

“How is she?”

“Good. She loves her job.”

“Good.”

Henry looked at George. “We all went to the same school.” George thought maybe he meant College. “Fifth grade.”

Brad continued the story. “Then my parents moved away. So I missed sixth grade. They moved back and then away again. So, I missed eighth grade with the Mad Mathematicians.”

Henry got a text. “It’s from work. They’re asking me to bring a go-bag.”

“I have one.”

Henry protested, “I have a backpack.”

“Sure you do.” He laughed. “Did they say they wanted you to keep one on hand? Or to bring one for tomorrow specifically?”

“They didn’t say.”

George headed for his room, “Come on.” George gave him a leather bag that folded suits around the inside. He helped Henry pack. He left and returned with a matching toiletries bag. “I put in most of what you’ll need, except cologne.”

“Oh. Thanks, George. I just realized I’ll have to take my passport every day.” They looked at each other for a moment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Miss. May served dinner.


	4. Henry’s first day at work.

Henry passed through a metal detector and went up to his office. Which turned out to be his bosses office.

The Secretary looked up, “Hello. Have a seat.” She returned to her computer. He sat. She took a phone call. From her side of the conversation he learned she was not a secretary.

Ten minutes later the group leader followed by another man, came out of his office. He took in the bag. “Oh, good! You got my message. Mr. Mathews this is Mr. Nielsen. Go with him. He’ll get you set up.” The boss listened to the woman and returned to his office.

Henry and Mr. Nielsen said, “Hello,” and shook hands. Mr. Nielsen retrieved his go-bag from a table behind the woman, then led the way to the elevator. “My office,” he looked at Henry, “and now your office, is two floors down.” He lit up the button for the metro level. He waited until they were alone in the elevator and took out plane tickets. He returned his to his pocket.

Henry read the destination. La Guardia airport. He looked for the return ticket. There wasn’t one. He pocketed the ticket, and texted George, ‘Rav’.


	5. What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George wakes up, missing the last two days. Henry’s work takes him on a trip. Rose Marie May leaves and Brad cooks.

The sun was shining!? George sat up and his bladder was about to pop. He pushed the covers aside. He was stiff and sore and why was he still wearing yesterday’s clothes!? In the bathroom, he checked his watch. 12:31. And why was he wearing his watch in bed? He groaned, “No.” He missed Henry before he went to work! He washed his hands and tried to take a deep breath. Brushing his teeth, he turned his phone on and choked. Spitting the toothpaste into the sink he bent over and leaned on it, feeling weak. Thursday. 12:36. George trembled with a cold chill all over his body. How could it be Thursday?

Henry did his ID on Monday. Tuesday was his first day at work. What happened? Shakily he opened Henry’s messages.

Tuesday morning, ‘George you feinted last night. Brad caught you. U woke up & talked to me, than u went to sleep. This morning I let you sleep. Brad took pictures. I hope u r okay.’

George leaned so far over, his head now rested on the counter. Nauseated he carefully breathed and slowly stood up. George wore his hair short on the sides and a little longer on the top, so he didn’t look much different in the mirror. Weird creases from his pillow crisscrossed on the right side of his face. His beard had a two day’s growth. It was Thursday. He rinsed his mouth and spat again.

Tuesday, ‘George. Rav.’ Henry had once said traveling, George misheard, raveling. Henry had laughed, “Yes, I’m unraveling.” Unraveling eventually became rav. Henry was using his go-bag.

Tuesday night, ‘George u still sleeping? Call me when you wake up’

Tuesday night, ‘B says u r ok. Call me..’

Wednesday morning, ‘George. I worry. R u ok? Brady says you are still sleeping. Call me.’

Thursday, ‘George. Rav. I can’t get there to b with u. Brad is staying until u wake. Call me. I’m worried George. I want to take you to the Doctors. B And romy say u r ok.’

The last message was almost an hour ago. George paced around the empty house as he called Henry.

“George? Is it you?”

“Henry. Yes, it’s me.”

“What happened to you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. Why would I sleep for so long? Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Is Brady there?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet. Are you on a plane?”

“Yes.”

George waited for Henry’s destination, or when he expected to be back and Henry said nothing. “Okay. I’ll see you, when I see you.”

“Thank you, George.”

“You’re welcome, Henry.”

“Call me later or I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

On the refrigerator hung a note. Six times Brad had written where he was. Each had a line drawn striking it out. Store. Raking leaves. Store, and three more, raking leaves. The seventh said he was in the garden. We have a garden?

Outside pumpkins lined the driveway. Halloween wasn’t for almost another three weeks. The curb had a row of filled leaf bags next to the trash cans. Right. The trash is picked up on Thursdays. Hm. It hasn’t been picked up, yet. Brad was nowhere to be seen.

George brushed his teeth again and showered. What was going on? Two new people showed up. Oh, wait. Since three months ago, three new people came into his life. Now they all claimed to know each other. And. He was living in a house. He was half owner of a house. And for the first time his pictures were selling at an undreamed of rate making it possible to buy the house. And for the first time ever he slept for days in a row. He must have been drugged. Somebody slipped him a micky. By the time he was dressed he’d decided it could have been any of the three of them. Even Henry. He smelled lunch before he left his room.

George entered the kitchen.

“I expected to see Miss. May.”

Brad poured pasta into a strainer and set it back on the stove. “I’m glad to see you up. How you doing?” Brad kept grinning and took the flank steak George had bought out of a marinade. He set it on the hot griddle. He set the timer for a minute.

“Awake.”

“Can you stand on one foot and touch your nose?” He waited watching George.

“Really?” George tsked and did as Brad asked. Brad rotated the steak.

“Other side.”

“Brad. I’m not drunk.” He did the other foot. “Happy?”

“Yes.” George was about to leave. “What do you want to drink?”

“Water. No, tea. Coffee. Thanks.”

“Okay.” He poured a cup. They looked at each other as George took the cup. “Why do you keep calling Rose Marie, Miss. May?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Ah.” Brad turned off the timer and turned the steak.

George imitated Rose Marie, “I’m Miss. May, I’m here to see Henry. It’s okay, you can let me in. Henry and I go way back.” George helped him set the table.

Brad stood with a fist on one hip. “So, she’s disliked you from the get go.” George had to agree. When the steak was done, Brad covered it with a pot lid and brought it to the table. They plated the spaghetti and green beans as the meat rested. “I found a can of green beans.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for making lunch.”

“You’re welcome. Rose Marie is out shopping. All the fresh fruit and vegetables are gone.”

George ate a green bean. I’m being told about the state of my kitchen by a stranger with whom I’ve spent less than an hour in actual conversation? A man who is now familiar with my kitchen. And where has he been sleeping? He did care about my health, or was he pushing me around?

Brad smirked. “She’s such a turkey. She asked Henry what he was charging you rent.” George stopped moving. “I know. He said you two formed a partnership and bought the property. She said, “The house didn’t need any fixing up so, she’d assumed you had no reason to form a partnership.” Brad in a confidingmanner added, “But, she’s angry with Henry. She says, he left her. And he says, she left him.”

George ate pondering. He’d asked Henry if he was married or had a girlfriend. He should have asked if he had an ex.

“George.” George studied Brad. Bad news was coming. “She says your pictures are porn. She showed us one. Henry is wearing a sweater and no pants.” His voice grew louder as George abruptly left the table.

Halfway to his room he said, “Excuse me.” He took the frame out of his drawer. It was empty. He returned to Brad. “Where is it?” He knew he was angry and tried not to show it. Brad placed his elbow on the table and waved, as in go look.

George searched Henry’s room. He started with the drawers and ended up under the bed. Rotating in a circle he looked at the photos on the walls. He looked behind each of them.

Brad joined him, “I don’t think Rose Marie can stay here any longer.” He brought out her suitcases. George’s eyebrows jumped up. They each opened a case. In the inner pocket they found the picture. He walked slowly into his room, ignoring Brad’s packing of the suitcases. Carefully he placed the photo back in it’s frame.

George stopped thinking. He aimlessly wandered into the living room. He ignored the rest of his lunch, then walked through the empty dining room and into the kitchen. Miss. May drove up. This was his house. Rose Marie had to go. He sat on the sofa and waited.

Brad carried the luggage outside and returned with bags of groceries. He quickly ran to the bathroom. George heard him gathering up Miss. May’s brushes and nail polish and shit! George was angry! She must have been the one who drugged him! Or was she? Brad was back in the kitchen and May was already driving away.

Who says May’s the guilty one? Brad. Brad said she asked the questions about Henry and his financial situation. Did she? Who says Brad didn’t plant the picture in the suitcase? Brad is the one who pulled out the suitcases, when he didn’t find the picture “fast enough”. Brad talked to May outside. What did he say to her? Maybe he didn’t say, “George wants you to leave.” It wasn’t a very long conversation. And she went and didn’t come back in to say goodbye.

George rubbed his head. What happened all day Tuesday and Wednesday? Tuesday morning Henry left for work. His texts make it look like he’s on a trip, for work. Is he? He wore a new lanyard. Was it real? Did Henry have a new job?


	6. George discovers the deck decor.

George felt rushed and vacant at the same time. His gaze fell on the blank TV. Ignoring his hunger, he finished setting up the old iPad2. He’d wiped everything out of this one and kept it as a ‘bank’ for all his pictures. He opened the file: Henry Submitted. He sat on his shins and looked at Henry in the old apartment, interspersed with Vicky and a few location shoots. At some point Brady joined the viewing.

Seeing the pictures chronologically, the gradual removal of Henry’s clothing was apparent, as was the lengthening of his hair in front and on top, while his nape remained clean shaven. Having his hair hang down helped to cover his face, while having his neck showing kept him from looking like a hairy ape man.

George was pondering the story told by the pictures. “Henry” a single man, with a newspaper. Time passed and then there were two glasses in the background. Sometimes a second plate was set at the table. The newspapers folded in a rack, now also held “Vogue” and “Town and Country”. Then the extras were gone. The women’s backpack, the glasses and mugs were no longer seen. The magazines were not updated. Then “Henry” took a trip. Now all the reading material was gone and new pictures hung on the walls. Women’s clothing and supplies appeared in the bathroom. Two toothbrushes.

After the cabin shoot “Henry” had returned to find his apartment a mess. Photo’s broken, a chair overturned, a broken vase on the floor, against the wall with it’s flowers strewn about it and up above a gouge in the wall. He ignored it and sat on the sofa eating a bowl of cereal. Then the photos showed him moving into a house.

George reached the cabin shoot. He’d put a lot of planning into these pictures since they’d not made much money so far and he’d paid the expense of renting a cabin.

In the first photo the sun was setting as “Henry”, stark naked, unlocked the front door of a cabin. The windows glowed with candlelight. A thick blanket of snow covered the peaked roof, shrubs, trees and path. His trail of footprints started in the near foreground.

“How did you get Henry to walk that far barefoot?”

George startled. “Sox.” He didn’t really want to give away his methods.

“Just a pair of sox?”

“Yes.”

“But? Wouldn’t the snow stick to the sox?”

“A normal pair of sox, yes, no, maybe.”

“But, wouldn’t his feet be cold?”

George had to use the bathroom again. When he returned, Brad looked at him dourly. “Sorry.”

“The sox are insulated. Henry’s face isn’t showing. He’s holding the sox with his teeth. We debated the other option, tape the sox to his chest.” George sat back on the floor. He wasn’t ready to sit next to Brad. He looked back over his shoulder, “Henry didn’t want to rip out the few chest hairs that he has.” Brad grinned. George advanced to the next frame. He didn’t bother to explain about Henry standing on a heating pad under the welcome mat.

In the next frame “Henry” was caught up in a blanket of red, black, and grey and slept on the floor in front of a dying fire. His face towards the camera was not visible in the deep shadows. The fire’s light played over his skin.

“That’s really quite beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

The next picture the camera was above and looking down at “Henry”. He sat with his bare legs cross legged on a bench drinking a hot cocoa. He was wearing a sweater, hat, and mittens, in bright red and white. The snow was an unbroken blanket of white around him.

“How did he get on the bench without walking on the snow?”

“What do you think?”

“He climbed over the back of the bench.”

George nodded. “He did.”

“So, you must have brought a ladder or something.”

“Yes.”

“How is he keeping from freezing his ass?”

“Hot pad. Two of them. One on the seat and a second one on the back.”

The next picture had Henry framed by a bright blue sky with his head on his arms on the edge of a hot tub. His hair flopped over the small glimpse of his face. The orbs of his butt broke the opaque surface of the water which reflected overhead tree branches interlaced with the blue sky.

In the last frame of the cabin shoot, Henry, clothed and alone, was getting into Vicky. George stared at the picture remembering the decisions he’d made. Unhappily, he still felt it looked posed and he should come up with a name for the character Henry was playing in the pictures. But, what? Max? Fred? John? After all this time still nothing felt right.

The next frame was back at the apartment. He was eating cereal for dinner. The next day “Henry” in a long striped nightshirt was stirring a drink at the kitchen counter. Towards the back of the counter were empty beer and wine bottles, glasses, used plates and the two hot cocoa mugs. As if, maybe there was a party the night before?

“Where are the rest of the pictures?”

George was in the moment of remembering what Henry said in the kitchen, “What pictures?”

“Where is the picture of Henry looking up?”

George sighed. He returned to the hot cocoa photo thinking, Brad isn’t seeing any of the story. “Do you mean this one?”

“Yes. Where is the one where he is looking up and laughing?”

“It no longer exists.” George looked behind himself at Brad sitting on the sofa.

“Sorry?”

“We have an agreement. No photos of Henry’s face. And, while he doesn’t care, there are also no dick pics.”

“Ah. Well, you know nothing is ever completely gone, even if you delete it.”

George stood up and faced Brad. His hands in fists. Suddenly Brad English looked like he wished he’d kept his thoughts to himself. “I know what you mean, Brad. I delete any face photos in my camera, before the file is transferred to a computer. If I use film the negative was sliced afterwards. I specifically asked him if I could keep a copy of that picture for myself. And he said yes.”

“Wow. Do you use film a lot?”

George shrugged, Brad sounded like he was deflecting. And he didn’t really want to talk the endless details of being a photographer.

“There must be a lot of money taking nude photo’s.”

George sensed Brad was taking the conversation in a direction. He answered carefully, “There can be.”

“It just feels weird knowing there are a bunch of guys out there jerking off to pictures of Henry.”

“Most people who look at these pictures are female.”

“Most! Like over fifty percent are women?”

Was Brady still trying to maneuver him? “Like, most.” Maybe Brad had no clue? “Most men look at women. Most women look at men.”

Also, most pictures of Henry had too much clothing and too much story for males. Also, he never tried to make Henry look younger. He filmed him as he was, an adult male. “The theme of the cabin shoot was that his girlfriend didn’t make it. And he’s wearing the sweater she knitted for him, or bought for him. He’s not happy being alone in front of the fire or in the hot tub. He’s missing her. The story is,” George paused, “if she didn’t go with him, why did he go? Or he expected her to be there. The lights were on. So, she’d been there and left.”

“Do you publish them like little cartoon’s with captions underneath?”

“You go find the pictures and tell everyone Henry’s name, you’re hurting Henry.”

Brad came over to George, “I would never. Me an Henry go way back.”

“So, you all keep saying.” He moved away from Brad and opened the curtains. The wide deck narrowed at the stairs leading to the boat dock. Two days ago the empty deck had a single pot of onions and chives.

Brad watched George take in the transformation. A two person swing with a fire pit was the main focal point of groups of potted plants in full bloom. A wrought iron archway framed the stairs, pots of small viney plants at it’s base. Brad hoped he noticed the handrails following the stairs down to the boat deck. Behind the swing 4x4 post with thick wires strung between them held a dozen or more pots filled with dirt. A few had small plants just beginning to grow.

George recognized the pots, most likely an herb garden, when filled in, might completely block the only view the neighbor’s had of the deck. “You did this?” George moved towards the exit.

“Yes. Rose Marie planned all this out. She’s very good at that sort of thing.” George went out.“She’s studied interior design, did you know?”

George found animals carved out of rock, or clay, strategically placed. “Apparently I know very little about Henry or his friends.” He kept finding another surprise. A wooden box near the back of the garage held a watering hose, next to it another was a trash can. He walked to the head of the stairs. “Thank you for the handrails.” Who builds stairs without a rail?

“You’re welcome.”

George looked down at a bench/table structure on one side of the boat dock. “You did all this in two days?”

“We. Rose Marie. And I did what she told me to do.”

“Why did she take my picture? First she went into my room. While I was there, sleeping.” Brad was trying to lead him somewhere. The swing. He huffed and sat on the swing.

“I’ll be right back.” Brad left and George slowly swung feeling the breeze. The swing was set in the shade of a mature tree. Rose Marie planned and executed all this in two days?

Brad returned with one of the bistro chairs and his plate. “Here. If you’re hungry.” He set the plate on the swing next to George. He adjusted the chair to face the swing.

“Thanks. I’ll reimburse you.” George said and started to eat.

“Reimburse Henry. He paid for all of this.”

“Henry.” Henry didn’t mention this.

George watched Brad leave, then took in the views. The design lent itself to the taking of pictures of Henry, with the fire pit in the foreground, or the background, or the woods around them. Sitting on the boat dock, doing what? Fishing? In short shorts. With his untanned skin. Henry’d look good in any color. Black for extreme contrast. Dark brown to match his hair. George finished his meal.

Brad returned with a small ice chest. Another Romy purchase? A truck drove up. The door bell tinkled. George watched Brad’s pants as he left. The man always seemed to be doing something, maybe nothing, to get his attention. A delivery man wheeled in a tall propane area heater. Brad pointed to a small piece of yellow tape on the deck. “Place it here, please.” He placed it, had Brad sign for it and left.

Brad cracked open a beer. He glanced at the water and looked at George. “Have you gotten to know your neighbors?”

George lifted an eyebrow.

“Halloween’s coming. We bought you candy to pass out.”

Levely he replied, “Thanks.”

“Also, this Kayaker comes by. Always on this side. I didn’t think anything about it, until I saw him three times on Wednesday.”

George looked towards the boat dock. A kayaker slowly paddled away from them. He turned the rear of his craft in a slow circle and drifted back the way he came. He looked up at George. They had seen each other before. A couple of times at the grocery store. George was sure he looked surprised. The kayaker nodded and paddled away.

Brad gave George time to think. Finally George said, “I’ve seen him around. If he noticed me at all, and I guess he has, from his viewpoint, Henry and I are gone for two days and you and Miss. May show up at the same time and do what new owners do. Then I come back and look like I still live here.”

“Do you? You know?”

Testily George cut a look at Brad, “Do I what?”

“Take pictures out here?”

“Sans clothing? No.” He picked up his plate and went back inside.


	7. The Skeleton and the Kayak.

George occupied himself in his bedroom doing nothing. When was Henry returning? Why was Brad still here? When was he intending to leave? Why did they decorate this house? It’s not theirs. Unless Henry has some agreement with them. What could that possibly be? Henry had left another text. Rav and he’s worried about me. He daydreamed looking at his picture of Henry. Someone had done his laundry. His last thought was of the kayaker.

Brady meanwhile cleaned the kitchen, swept and raked leaves, took care of the empty trash cans, assembled a skeleton, and made a meal of leftovers. They ate separately. George prepared to take a walk.

“Can I go?” George gave him a curt nod. George adapted to Brad’s mile crunching walk. Maybe Brad did walk down from New York. They walked as dusk settled over the land. After the second mile Brad went to say something and George stopped, he held up a hand. “Why did I sleep for two days?”

“Ah.” Brad started walking slowly, as if each step required a seperate decision. “You hit your head.”

“Brad. What happened?”

Brad fidgeted. He put his hands in his pockets, took them out and shook them. “Well. Rose Marie was cooking. Yeah?” George kept pace with him and didn’t reply. “I was in the kitchen. So, I didn’t see exactly what happened. It seems she bumped into you and dropped a plate. Then you stepped backwards and slipped on a piece of onion. I know, I saw it smeared on the bottom of your shoe. Rose Marie was on top. And you both had crashed to the floor. But you hit your head on the floor right where it meets the wall.” He paused re-enacting the scene in his head. “So, I came in. I helped her up. She was laughing and, honestly I thought you broke your neck. I honestly thought you were dead.” Brad continued to fidget. He ran his hands over his scalp, put them on each hip, he even hugged himself. “Then Henry cradled you in his arms and you talked to him. He helped you up and took you into your room. And you laid down. Right? I thought you were laying down just to recover. You know from the shock.”

“What did I talk to Henry about?”

“Oh. Ah. Let me think.” Eventually he added, “You talked about taking pictures of Henry, before he went to work.”

“Do you remember exactly what I said?”

“Ah. Dress in front of the window. Look outside. Like that.”

That was Monday’s conversation. “You know you’re not supposed to let people sleep after a head injury? Don’t you?”

Brad looked like he was about to say something stellar, like, well. George turned around and headed back. Brad caught up to him. “I’m sorry George. I really am. Nobody wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

All this time he thought he was groggy, too in the immediate moment, from too much sleep. No wonder he felt vacant. No wonder he had no desire to do any editing. He felt, what? Tired. They walked in the moonlight.

As they reached the house the outside light flicked on and the skeleton was obvious. Hanging from a tree, using clear monofilament, it appeared to be walking a skeleton dog. George was surprised to see it there, on his property, without his knowledge. It certainly wasn’t done by Henry, since it wasn’t there when he last time he looked out the windows. Was there even an outside chance Henry knew about this yard decor before he left? Or was he a part of an ongoing discussion with Brad? “Henry must have found this idea hilarious.”

“Do you like the skeleton?”

George really didn’t know what to think. “You.” He kept blinking and looking around for any other surprises. “Do all people from Michigan have such a sense of humor?”

“Michiganders.”

“What?”

“Like a male goose. Gander. Ganders. Michiganders.”

George in that moment no longer thought there was some plot to insinuate Henry into his life, prop up his sales, give him the funds to buy a house, knock him out for two days, remove Henry while bringing in Miss. May and Brady English, all in an effort to decorate this house. What other possible reason could there be? There wasn’t. He hit his head. And Henry had a new job. And Henry’s crazy friends decorated his house! “Do you have plans to redo the dining room?”

“Ah. Not me.”

“Miss. May may.”

They entered the house and George giggled. Miss. May may have. He took off his jacket.

“If you don’t like the skeleton I can take it down. Easily. It’s wrapped around and held with a hook. It’s not tied on.”

“It’s alright.” For this year, then it’s history! “Relax. I might have preferred to have it,” in the neighbors yard or the next county, “sitting down by the dock.”

He checked, he had very few of the symptoms listed for a concussion. The web site said to try to sleep for eight to ten hours, not forty eight hours. And take Tylenol and avoid hurting yourself a second time. So he took two pills and put on his jacket. He sat on the swing in the darkness and looked at the flowers. Miss. May strung twinkle lights in and around the trees. Of course she did. He had to admit to himself, she’d have made a great set assistant.

He fell asleep. In the morning he awoke laying on the swing with a mound of blankets on him, a pillow under his head and the propane burner heating everything. Brad stood in front of him holding out a mug of coffee.

“Good morning. How about some breakfast on the deck?”

“Great.” George fought with the blankets, sat up to find he was not wearing shoes. He took the mug. “Thank you.” He looked at the mug again. “Um. Something. Oh. I’m not supposed to have caffeine for the next week.”

“Oh, Sorry.”

George noticed the kayaker heading away from them. Brad glanced where George was looking.

“Ah.” Brad set the mug down. Clearly Brad was trying. A bird flew up. “Shoo. This is George’s breakfast. Here.” George took the plate and crossed his feet back under the blankets.

“Thanks. I think we can shut off the heater.”

“Sure thing. I’ll go get you something else. Also, Henry is still on his trip.”

George mumbled, “Thanks.” He ate. He knew he was forgetting something. Something he wanted to think about. He spied an empty or full propane tank near the hose and trash containers. He sighed and burbled his way through two eggs over easy on top of two pancakes, three pieces of bacon and fried tomatoes with onions and herbs. Brad had carmelized the tomato’s and onions. This man was not normal.

Brad brought him some sort of fruit smoothie. How was he ever going to eat all this? He felt obligated since obviously Brad went to some pains to make all this for him. The kayaker returned. He looked up at George.

“Hello. Come have breakfast with us.” George called to the kayaker.

“Okay. Thanks.” The man tied up his craft.

“Do we have enough?”

Brad laughed, “Of, course.” Of, course he does. Sigh.

Brad ran over and shook his hand at the top of the stairs. “Hi, I’m Brady, everyone calles me Brad.”

“Hello, I’m Christopher.”

“How do you do?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the invite.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me go get you a plate.”

“Thank you.”

“And this is George.” Brad left.

Christopher came over to George and stood right in front of him. “Hello, George Davis.”

That was another surprise. A person who just paddled into his life and knew his name. It was unsettling. “Hello. How are you?”

His voice dropped 20 decibels. “Sleepy. I had an acquaintance stay out all night. I couldn’t sleep without making sure they were safe.”

George flustered, knowing Christopher meant him, asked, “Why did you do that?”

“I guess I needed to know.” He held out his hand. This handshake was soft, caressing and lingered most unlike the handshake with Brad. “I’m Christopher.”

“Hello. Christopher.” George gulped. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” He sat on the bistro chair. They really needed to buy more chairs. The two men looked at each other. Once in a while they looked away, at the house, the lake and then they looked at each other again. They smiled.

Brad returned and handed a plate to Christopher. “Here you go.” Brad sat on the swing. George and Christopher smiled at each other. They both wanted Christopher on the swing.

Brad said, “I’ve seen you kayaking a lot. You must like kayaking a lot.”

“I do.” He paused enjoying being with George. “It is my morning workout. I go to the far end then I come back. When I reach my house which is right over there.” He pointed to the opposite shore. “I stop. Or I continue,” he waved off to the left, “to the end of this little inlet and then stop.”

“It must be good exercise.”

“Yes.” Nobody said anything for a while as they ate and watched the sun play across the water. A bird flew by, very fast it changed directions. As if the presence of the men changed their world.

“Thank you for the breakfast.”

“Oh. My bad. What would you like to drink?”

“Water’s fine. Thanks.”

“You sure? I made a pot of coffee.”

“Water’s okay. Thank you.”

“Okay. Water it is.” Brad left again.

“I haven’t been stalking you. But, you and the other man.”

“Henry.”

“You and Henry are the first gay couple in this area. So, I noticed you.” George looked down at his plate wondering just what he wanted to reveal to this very new person, he only just met. “You’ve only lived here a couple of months. Do you like the place?” George nodded. Christopher waited until Brad returned. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, my father was a marine. He moved us here a dozen years ago. My mom died when I was five and my dad remarried. I’ve seen pictures of my mom, but I don’t remember her. We lived in Northern California. Then we moved here. Then my dad died and my mom since then, she remarried. So, I have two parents, neither of which are my birth parents. And to make things more confusing, I have a different last name, which some people cannot begin to cope with. Some think they adopted me. But, then the name difference makes no sense to them. It’s crazy.”

Eventually George said, “I’m sorry. Man, loosing your mom and then your dad, how horrible.”

Christopher looked at George. “Thanks.”

Brad added, “Yeah, sorry.”

Then he looked at Brad, “Thanks.”

Brad said, “I came here to visit my friend Henry. He got a new job and is on a trip, for his job. So, I guess I’m just waiting around for him to come back.”

George was glad to hear there was an end date to Brad’s being here. Even though it was nice to have some one else doing all the cooking. “Sadly Miss. May had one day with Henry, before he left. Brad, thanks for making breakfast. That was thoughtful of you.”

“Sure.”

Christopher yawned. “Excuse me. I need more sleep. I should get going. Thank you for the breakfast. It was good.”

Brad took his plate. “You’re welcome. It was nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

George stood up. “It was good to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Show me this kayak of yours.”

“Okay.”

George padded in his sox down the stairs. “How do you know which end is which?”

“It goes both ways.” He lightly touched George as he passed him. George leaned into the touch. “You and Henry have a great relationship. I have seen you taking his picture. Once or twice.”

“When I have some free time, maybe you’ll find the pictures interesting.”

“I’d like that, George.”

“See you around, Christopher.” George bent down and removed his sox. He let Christopher watch him as he walked back up the stairs.


	8. Brad preps for Halloween

George waited on the dock, with an extra travel mug of water. Ready to encounter Christopher on his first trip past him.

When Christopher arrived he took the mug and tossed George the kayak’s tiedown. “Thanks, George. I do carry water with me. Down below.” George gave him a smile back and held the thin rope, steadying the lightweight craft. He liked holding the rope and wound it around his palm again. The longer Christopher sat in one place he heated the cold morning air which condensed as a waft of white, backlit by the sun shining sporadically through the trees. George took out a pocket camera, changed a setting, snapped a photo and returned the camera to a pocket. “In the blink of an eye,” Christopher laughed, “At last! You’re back to normal.”

“What?”

“You! You always have a camera. You’re always takingpictures of something or someone.”

George thought it over. He knew, he just didn’t know anyone else knew. Except maybe Henry.

“And then everything changed. I didn’t know you, from before, not really.” He gave George a look, a look of such longing. George studied the floating man and then their eyes locked. He did want to get to know this man better. When it became too intense George blinked. “Henry was suddenly gone. Two new people suddenly lived with you and you were gone. They looked like they were taking over. When you came back, no more camera, no more taking pictures and then you were sleeping all night, outside! So, yes it’s good to see you taking a picture.”

“They, tell me I hit my head.”

Christopher’s face settled. He had almost no expression.

“I looked up concussions.” George nodded and his eyebrows moved up a fraction, “Yeah? Almost nothing matches the symptoms.” He looked at the water, decided what he wanted to share with this man he just met. “I had some crazy ideas.” He grinned. The smile was too big and sudden and just as quickly, gone again.

“Tell me. Tell me what you think.” Christopher suddenly looked like he was raised by a military man. Maybe his father died before he learned his son was gay? Christopher wasn’t the “flaming gay” type and he didn’t carry the guilt or depression from being attacked for being gay. He just had that one little thing that made him different, otherwise he was the man his father would have wanted him to be.

“Those two days I was gone, I was asleep. I woke up thinking I’d been drugged.” He gave a half hearted smile. “Crazy, right? Then, I questioned everything.” He took a quick breath. “Maybe I didn’t find Henry. Maybe he was planted right in front of me to find. Then I thought that maybe our business took off and made so much money, not because my pictures were so good, but.” Painfully he considered, “Someone was dumping money into it. It was a lot of money Christopher. Enough to pay cash for this house.” Christopher’s eyes never looked towards the house. They stayed right on George. “Then these two people showed up. They decorated the deck.” George had an ah-ha moment. “Like pros. You didn’t happen to notice anyone else around? Helping them?”

“No. Brad spent a lot of time on a ladder in the trees. Stringing lights. When he got tired he’d switch and rake leaves.” He mused, “The swing was delivered.” His eyes flicked back to George with a smile, “I kept wondering where you were. I thought, expected, you to be the one overseeing the work.”

“It’s crazy. There is no reason for any of that to have happened. I hit my head and I was in a fantasy.”

Christopher pondered a moment, “Did Henry, while you were there, meet Miss. May and Brad?”

“Yep. Henry slept with Miss. May and when he first saw Brad he said, “Hi, Brad.” And Brad replied, “Hi, Hen.” So, yes. Henry knows them.”

Christopher’s expression lightened, “Brad’s coming this way. He’s carrying something. Maybe it’s breakfast again.”

“Brad seems like the perfect homemaker, gardener, cook. Doesn’t he?” They shared a grin.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I made cookies. Cranberry spiced oatmeal cookies. They’re still warm. Have one.”

“Thank you.” George passed one down to Christopher.

“Thank you, Brad.”

Brad sat near George on the end of the dock.

“These are good.”

“They are good, thank you for making them. So, George let me know. If you want to learn to kayak I’ll borrow one from a friend. And you can try it out and see if you like it, before you buy one.”

“Alright. I’m willing to try it once.”

“Okay. Good. It will take me a few days.”

“Okay. See you in a few days.”

Brad held out a cookie, “Take another with you.”

“I’m okay.” George tossed the rope to Christopher, who tucked it inside. As he paddled away he looked back over his shoulder at George.

“These are good. I’m a little cold. I want something hot to drink.”

“I made coffee.”

“Sounds wonderful. But, maybe I should stick to hot milk or hot chocolate.”

They headed towards the house. “Hot chocolate does sound good.”

“I think Christopher took my mug.”

They laughed.

Brad heated milk in a pot. “George what would you like for breakfast?”

He held up a cookie. “Brad these are enough.”

Brad fidgeted. “Okay. Maybe later. If you have time. Help me with my Halloween costume?”

“Sure. What are you going as?”

“The Joker. He’s my favorite. I always go as the Joker. Help me dye my hair green?” Brad continued to make hot chocolate.

“Okay. Which Joker?”

When I was little it was Cesar Romero and Jack.” He measured out vanilla. “Nicholson. Ever since I saw “Suicide Squad” Jared Leto is my favorite.”

“I never saw “Suicide Squad.”

Brad stopped stirring and stared at George. “Seriously?”

George nodded, “The milk.” Brad whipped the boiling pot off the burner.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Do you want to watch it today? I have a copy.” He carefully poured the chocolate into two mugs. They were the same two mugs from various Henry shoots.

“Why not. What else have I got to do today? Besides dying your hair?”

“Well. The Jared Leto version is the hardest.” Brad spooned whipped cream on top of each mug and returned the bowl to the refrigerator. George was surprised at the number of containers with lids and labels neatly stacked on the bottom three shelves. It wasn’t his refrigerator anymore.

Brad grated chocolate flakes on the whipped cream. George signed internally, of course he did. “They are all basically the same, green hair, white face, from the acid, and red lips. Their eyebrows change a lot as does the amount of eyeliner they use. The biggest difference is what they wear.”

They took the mugs into the living room. Brad queued up “Suicide Squad” and set up the tv. George ate a cookie with his chocolate. “This is good. Thank you for making it.”

“Sure.” He scrolled thru movie listings and started the movie. “Except Jared Leto. He has tattoos, and on his face. His hair is short. Making it hard to simply wear a wig and he has the teeth thing going. I bought fake teeth. So. How do you wear white pancake makeup and have deranged written in black on your forehead?” He added ruefully, “One way is to have a budget with a makeup artist doing the work.”

They watched the movie while they ate.

“How did you do it?”

Brad hit pause. “Last year? I laid down black and white.”

“Did that work?”

“Not so good. This year, temporary tattoos, laid down, today and by Halloween they will be nice and dark. Then covered with a thin white and again scraped off over the tattoos with a thin piece of metal. Then after Halloween I’ll either live with them until they fade or cover them with makeup. Like Jack Nicholson. That was really cool. He wiped off flesh tone to reveal white underneath. I’ve never heard how they did that. Like, oil base with water based on top?”

“Ah.” They grinned and watched most of the movie before Brad paused the movie a second time.

“I have to take a break.” George cleaned up the dishes and looked out the window until Brady returned. “I love this part. Joker rescues Margot Robbie. See what he’s wearing? The double bow tie and the matching flower. I love all of his different costumes. I think there is eight. At the end he’s in a great swat outfit. Where could I ever get that costume?”

“Which one are you going to do?”

“The nightclub at the beginning. White shirt and suspenders. I have it already. I have the watches and rings, but I wish they were closer to the ones Jared wears.”

After the movie was over Brad asked, “Are you wearing a costume for Halloween?”

George thought over his answer. “I’m usually dressed as a photographer.”

”You mean you’re working.”

”Usually. Usually I help friends who have a job. They need help for a single days work.

”So, you’ve never been to a Halloween party?”

”Only to take pictures.”


	9. Brad cooks George breakfast.

George missed Christopher’s morning exercise. Or Christopher didn’t exercise today? He checked his messages. Henry’s “Rav” were annoying. What was going on? Had Henry been abducted? Was someone else leaving the messages? He went back in house and decided he was being a little foolish, until he noticed the propane tank was no longer sitting next to his hose and trash can. At the doorway he looked back at the heater and it was not to be seen. He shut the door and leaned against it. He hit his head and everything else was normal. Wasn’t it? He steeled himself for the possibility he’d never see Henry again. Or Christopher for that matter.

Brad was obliviously cooking breakfast. “Just in time. I squeezed oranges for you.”

When did the man shop? Things appeared and disappeared. Oranges appeared and a propane tank disappeared. The heater was gone. What else was gone? What else was new? He took the glasses into the living room. He set the table. Everything on the deck was new.

In the kitchen George looked out the window. A headless skeleton joined the skeleton walking the dog. Headless he held a pumpkin in his hand. George was certain if he walked out to the street he’d see the pumpkin was carved with a face. Was Brady making trades with someone? Was Miss. May still in the area, helping Brad?

They sat and ate oatmeal with cranberries and raisins. Brad set out a platter of fresh fruit, including a pineapple half diced! The bottom half. The sweet half. “Thank you for making breakfast, Brad.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why are you being so nice to me, Brad?”

“Ah. I’m waiting for Henry to return.”

“So, you say, Brad. What do you want from me, Brad?”

“Well. There is something.” George ate without taking his eyes off Brad. Brad gulped and stopped eating.

“Finish your food, Brad. It’ll get cold, Brad.” Brad chastised, nodded and ate.

George drank his orange juice. Brad’s coffee smelled heavenly. He stood up. Brad, wide eyed, sharply asked, “What do you need?”

“Relax. Did you make enough coffee for two?”

Brad jumped up. He gathered the dishes. “Yes. Yes, I made a whole pot. Let me get it for you.” He returned with the pot, a mug, a small pitcher of white stuff and a dish with sugar. He took the pot back into the kitchen and returned with a hot pad. “Here, you go.” He poured and set the mug in front of George. “Ah! I forgot a spoon!” He retrieved a spoon and two forks. “We can pick.” George knew he meant the fruit.

From the hot food and drink, George relaxed and grinned. He watched Brad in Joker makeup, relax. George asked kindly, “Is it hard to eat with the teeth in?”

“A little. I wanted to practice.” Brad took them out and wrapped them in a napkin.

“The face tats look good.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you want, Brad?”

“I was hoping Henry would be here and I might watch and learn,” his voice softened, “how to do the business. But, you haven’t taken a picture since I arrived here. So, there’s that.”

George started his second cup, studying and thinking about Brad’s always currying his favor, now made sense.

“As soon as Henry returns I’ll leave.” George started laughing. “What’s so funny? Are you laughing at me?”

“No. No. I’m not. Is Henry ever coming back?” George sobered up and looked at Brad over the top of his mug. “What do you see yourself doing?”

“I don’t know. So far, the only pictures we’ve taken are of houses we’re putting up for sale.”

Which was news to George. “How many?”

“Five.”

“Five, houses?”

“Houses. We did one each year. While we were in college. Bought it. Fixed it up during the school year. Sold it. Bought another one. Repeat. The first year we had to live in the dorms. After that, we lived in them.”

“And you did all the work yourselves?”

Brad took a deep breath, “Yes and no. What we learned to do ourselves, we did. Basically we learned when to call in a plumber or an electrician, or a contractor. I did most of the walls and windows. I helped the general contractor with a roofing problem one year. Romy did the design and did all the schedules. Jean did basic building stuff. Building codes. Did you know you need a permit to change a window? Even if you’re fixing it. She works for an architect, now.”

“What did Henry do?”

“Oh. He made all the decisions about which house to buy, selling them, all the laws, like that. He didn’t take over. We had meetings. We made group decisions. We all had to agree. After that he helped with whatever needed doing. Painting. Ripping up flooring. Making runs to the dump. Like that.”

“When did you do the fifth house?”

Brad began cleaning up the breakfast. “O, that! That was crazy. That happened so fast. We bought this house. See?” He moved into the kitchen. “Henry went out there several times. He didn’t like the location. It was too far from the University, the city, who would want to buy it later? Especially after we fixed it up and the price went up? So, we bought it. I forget how long, weeks later? A developer bought up the whole area. They were surprised to see we had just bought the house sort of in the middle of one side of the land that they wanted. So, we all went to this meeting. We’re all trying to dress the part, right? They just handed us lots of money to just walk away from it. So, we did. And we bought our second choice and fixed it up.” Brad finished in the kitchen.

They sat on the sofa looking out at the lake. “Do you think I could be a model?”

“Eventually. There’s runway, you’ve seen that? They strut.”

“Yeah.”

“Every photo of anyone wearing clothes that you’ve ever seen, has a model wearing the clothes.” Brad nodded. “Commercials. Yes, you could do those, however they are made in New York or LA.”

“I’d have to move.”

“Yes.”

“I tell stories. All those pictures you saw the other day tell a story.”

“What does Henry do?”

“Henry never looks like he’s having his picture taken. If I was to use you. I think you’d be good at the food. Yeah.”


	10. Halloween

George checked messages with one eye open, just to see if there was any change in Henry’s usual. There wasn’t. He went back to sleep.

Around eleven he padded through the empty house. He looked out the windows. Yikes. He’d become accustomed to either Henry or Brad being there. No Brad with the drinks and food. He went outside and checked the deck. Same as yesterday. He checked the front yard. Three skeletons and a driveway lined with pumpkins.

The kitchen was spotless! He opened the refrigerator and got another shock. It was empty! All the containers were gone. On the top shelf was a plate wrapped in plastic. Some sort of quiche. He heated it and checked the pantry. Among the supplies for winter? Were several bags of candy in a large orange bowl. The shelves had been pulled out to reveal a door.

He eyed it warily, then opened the door and flicked on the lights. “My house has a basement?” He looked down a stairway that hugged the wall. Halfway down was a landing. The stairs continued at a 90 degree angle, again hugging another wall. He descended into a white room. “This close to the water? Maybe this is where Brady’s been sleeping?” He did a slow turn, “Huh.”

Upstairs he loaded the bowl with candy and took out the quiche. He didn’t know what to do with himself. So, he ate and worked diligently on scenarios for future shoots.

“Trick or treat.” George gave candy to a witch, a cartoon character and something he didn’t know what it was. He went back to work. A tiny “Thrick or or tree,” was from a tiny pink princess. After he handed her the candy bar she ran back to her parents. The mom picked her up. In the distance The Joker headed towards him. Not carrying a Trick or Treat bag.

“Hi, Brad.”

“Hiya, did you miss me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m teasing, I had to run an errand. You got my note, right?”

“No.”

“It was on the refrigerator.”

George held the door open for him and was ready to give him a hug, but he breezed on in and went straight to the refrigerator. “Here it is.” There were at least a dozen post its of different colors. “I gotta piss.”

When he returned they sat on the sofa in the dark looking out at the lake. Every so often, one of them jumped up and passed out candy. “Brad where did all the food go?”

“What food?”

“In the refrigerator.” Brad jumped up and answered the door. Brad was taking a long time at the door. “Ah um, George. These people are lost. They’re wondering if we can give them a ride back to where they are staying. They don’t live here.”

“Yes. Sure. I’ll get the car.”

“I’ll lock up the house.”

George backed out Vicky. A man and woman in costume sat in the back seat. George thought it was a little strange that they didn’t say anything. Most people would at least say thank you. Brad jumped in, looking at a map on his phone. “Here’s the address. Go back out to the main.” George drove slowly past groups of children. Once they left the residential area the streets were deserted.

George gathered from the exit they took that they were headed for the opposite side of the lake. The woman sneezed. When she sneezed a second time she asked, “George may I have your hanky?” The man passed her the cloth.

George slowed for Trick or Treaters. He knew that voice. He’d not heard it in a decade. He looked in his rear view mirror. He stopped the vehicle and turned around in his seat. “Hello, Mom, Dad.”

“Hi, Georgie.”

“Son.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. With Brad studying George.

The street near the house was parked up with many cars. He found a spot and parked. George looked at Brad, “Later.” And gave him a tiny nod. Brad sighed. George helped his mother out of the car. She gave him a hug.

“It’s been too long, Georgie.”

“Hi, mom.”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine, mom.”

“We’ve been looking for you for years and years. It was like, every time we thought we knew where you were, you had moved.”

His father held out his hand. Wow. George never expected that and cautiously he shook his fathers hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yes, sir.” At that moment George hated himself. Yet, he was glad to see his mother again. And it was good to see his father. To see his father not angry with him. Not yelling. Without any disgust on his face. He wondered how long it would last.

They reached the Halloween decorated house. From the hubbub the party was a large one. George intended to excuse himself and leave. Henry exited the building, ran right over to him and gave him a big hug. “Henry!” George burst out laughing. Henry laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “George!” Behind Henry was Christopher. They were at Christopher’s house!? How long had his parents been here? How long have they been watching him?

Brad passed them and looked back, “This is where all the food went.”

His parents were looking at him and he knew they had been watching him, every time he was out on the deck. And they were different now. They spent the evening together, just talking. Neither he nor his parents spoke on any “touchy” subjects, especially not on who George might be dating.

Happy Halloween.


End file.
